


Like a Moth to a Flame

by DaughterofElros



Series: What You Will of Me [3]
Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which William is upset, Snow White is decided, and The Huntsman is surprised by events and realizations</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Moth to a Flame

“You can’t be _serious_.” William’s incredulity was matched only by his derision. “Your Highness, the man is nothing more than a common peasant! He has no appreciable knowledge or skills related to governing, his diplomacy is akin to that of a badger, and he had no advantageous political connections. You don’t even know if he can read or write! Why, for the love of all that is holy, would you want to make him a member of your Privy Council and name him among your most influential advisors?”

Snow White sat properly  in the grand hard-backed chair that was her exclusive seat in the council chambers and waited for William to pause in his pacing and ranting.  When he finally did so, she leveled her gaze at him and responded quite simply,

“Because I trust him.”

“ _Trust him_?” William echoed. “Forgive me, Your Highness, because I know that you feel you owe him a debt for protecting you in the forest, but I would remind you that he was initially sent into the forest to _kill_ you. I fear that putting your trust in him would not be a wise course of action.”

“He didn’t though.”

“What?” William shook his head.

“He didn’t kill me. You said yourself that he protected me. He saved my life, and I trust him.” She explained patiently.

“No, he didn’t kill you. “ William said testily. “He did, however, break the noses of four men in tavern brawls in town, get arrested for vagrancy, and thrice had to be carried out taverns because he was too intoxicated to manage it on his own power, and all of that within the last few months alone. He did a kindness by staying his hand, but he _did_ agree to take your life for payment. The man is little better than a stray dog, hardly worth the dirt caked on his own boots. We owe him our gratitude for the service he has done us in bringing you through the forest alive, but let us not get too carried away, Your Highness. Grant him a tract of land, enough of a reward to build a cottage on it, and send him from the Palace. He is hardly suitable as an advisor to you. To be frank, I would be surprised if he even desires the title.”

“He’s also standing right here.” The Huntsman’s voice rang out from the doorway. There was a pregnant silence.

“My apologies, Huntsman.” William said formally, inclining his head toward the other man by the slightest degree. “I did not mean offense.” The second statement rang a bit false.

“None taken, Sir.” Eric replied easily. “Much of what you say is true. I particularly liked the comment about the badger.” William had the grace to look somewhat chagrined. “Although, in my own defense, three of the men in the taverns deserved to have their faces realigned, as they were taking liberties with the serving girls.” Snow White suppressed a smile. It was rare to see William so thoroughly put in his place. Lord know how infrequently she had managed it when they were children.

“We were just discussing  the idea of your… future here at court,” William explained. “I was… informing Her Majesty of my observation that you were not a man typically drawn to courtly life, and that you might find a life of freedom in the country more desirable.”

“I heard.” Eric said dryly. “And though I appreciate your concern, I serve at the pleasure of the Queen.” At this, he glanced to her and held her gaze, the faintest hint of a smile curving upon his lips. “And whatever she wills of me, it is my glad duty to obey. What would you have of me, My Queen?”

She favored him with a warm and pleasant smile.

“I would have you for my advisor, Huntsman. I would have you sit amongst the members of my Privy Council and give me your true and honest opinion when I ask it of you.” He nodded, for he had been expecting this. Yet she continued on. “I have trusted you with my safety on many occasions, and you have always protected me. Therefore, I intend to task you with the creation and leadership of a Queen’s Guard. You yourself have spoken of the wisdom of creating such an elite group on several occasions.” He had, damn her, since it was only logical, but he had never intended that she should make him _lead_ it. Still, she wasn’t done. “Finally, I intend to bestow upon you the title of Lord, so that your station reflects my esteem and the trust I place in you. Will you accept?”

Part of him wanted to turn and run the opposite direction. A Lord? What was she playing at? A lordly title was never something he had coveted. In truth, he had never had much use for the nobility. He was tempted to decline. And yet, as always, he was powerless to refuse her. He was aware of sinking to his knees, his body providing the answer that his mind feared to give, though he knew it was the only possible one.

“I do accept, Milady.” He murmured as he bowed his head, taking some comfort in the horrified expression he had no doubt William was at that very moment trying to disguise.

“Very well. Then let my will be done. You may rise.” She smiled kindly. He wondered what William saw in her eyes at that moment. Did he see only the modest happiness she chose to convey, or had the other man known her long enough to notice the barely-concealed affection in her gaze? If he did, would he guess the reason for it?

“William, I trust that you will assist in any necessary arrangements?”  She asked. William’s wooden nod was apparently enough to satisfy her. With that she stood and swept purposefully from the room, already late for the next in her constant parade of duties.

He and William were left to stand regarding each other stoically. Despite their differences, he was inclined to like William- he too was a man driven by a desire to protect his Queen and keep her best interests at heart, which Eric could readily admire. Despite William’s distaste for the prospect of him remaining at court, there was some grudging respect between them. Yet he was under no illusion that things would go well for him if William ever discovered how, and more specifically _where_ , he had been spending so many of his nights, Lordship or no.

“I don’t dislike you.” William said abruptly, breaking the silence had become more and more stifling.

“Aye, but you don’t _like_ me either,” Eric replied with a snort.

“I’m not sure I trust you.” William countered. “That’s different.”

“Well you’re honest about it.” Eric observed. “It’s a place to star, at least.”

“I suppose it is.” William agreed thoughtfully. He gestured toward the door. “After you, Lord Huntsman.”  Eric shuddered. ‘Lord’ was definitely going to take some getting used to.

 

The rest of the day was filled with official business. There were papers to be drawn up and signed regarding every aspect of the Queen’s decree. Despite William’s assumptions otherwise, he _did_ possess the ability to read and write, and even cipher a bit. Nonetheless, the process was long and unexciting, and the courtly language and flowing penmanship, much flashier than his own, made the process all the more tedious. By the time he managed to get away, the sun was sinking low over the horizon.

He made his way to a post overlooking the courtyard to watch the soldiers at their evening drill. If he was to build a Queen’s Guard, he would need to select the most capable and trustworthy recruits, and that meant observing, among other things, how well they fought. There were a few promising possibilities, and he made a note to keep a closer watch on them.

He ate dinner in his usual place, about a third of the way down one of the long trestle tables. He was aware that his new status enabled him to seat himself at the head table reserved for the Queen and those most favored among her retinue, but he had no desire to deal with the hubbub and gossip that doing so would stir up. It suited him fine to sit here, amongst the common food and the common folk, where he had always sat.

 In truth, he had a better view of her here than he would have had from the end of the High Table. Occasionally he watched her, conversing with the nobles and her advisors, listening to their demands of her, picking at her meal, and glancing out to survey her people. When her gaze fell upon him, a secret smile stole across her face, and her eyes locked with his for a long moment before her attention was jerked back suddenly to answer the query of the Earl of Lathmore, who had been chattering away to her left.

Just as he was finishing his simple meal of beef and barley stew, a messenger appeared with a folded piece of paper. It bore the Queen’s personal seal, so he used his knife to lift the wax, being careful not to let anyone else catch a glimpse of its contents. Inside, she had written only two words.

_As Always?_

He stared at the paper, reading it again. He had wondered how things between them would proceed. Now that she could sleep comfortably in her own chambers, he had wondered if she would come to rely less on his presence. Indeed, though she had called him to her the first few nights in her new chambers, she had not summoned him these past two nights. He had found his own bed a surprising lonely place, and had slept restlessly. Despite this, he had told himself that he was pleased she no longer needed to depend upon his comfort, and that he was not disappointed by the ending of a ritual that was, by most any standards, wholly inappropriate.

Now, though… his heart swelled in his chest as he read her words, and he was forced to admit that he had missed her fiercely. He glanced to the Head Table again, and found her watching him, a question in her eyes. Would he accept her invitation, knowing that it was now borne out preference, rather than desperate need? He nodded once, and was rewarded with her relieved smile. In that instant, he realized something that he had not accepted before. He was in love with her.

Oh, he had known he loved her. One did not make a fool of oneself and risk one’s life time and time again out of mere kindness. But this was something else, something deep within him that he had not felt since Sara. He had fought against it both consciously and unconsciously, because to accept it in himself could bring only heartbreak of the slow, agonizing variety. But he could fool himself no longer. He was in love with her. Deeply, impossibly, irrevocably, infuriatingly, and above all, impossibly in love with her.

And like a moth to a flame, he would go to her this night, and most likely every night she wished it. He would love her chastely in silence and remain steadfast in his devotion until she either tired of him or married another. Even then, he realized, his love for her would most likely remain, a flame within him that would never die, no matter how harshly in singed his heart. And yet, he would face that sentence with joy if it meant another night by her side, or another day in her radiant presence. 


End file.
